


A Vast Image

by stardustgirl



Series: {vexed to nightmare} [2]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: (But with a 12 Year Old!), Accidental Baby Acquisition, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Child Death, Child Soldiers, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Ezra Bridger Has PTSD, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Father-Son Relationship, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kanan Jarrus Has PTSD, Kanan Jarrus Needs a Hug, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, Minor Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Phoenix Nest Discord, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Separation Anxiety, Slave Trade, Slavery, Social Anxiety, Space Dad Kanan Jarrus, Trust, Trust Issues, Young Ezra Bridger, past angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-05-16 15:15:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19320739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustgirl/pseuds/stardustgirl
Summary: Surely some revelation is at hand;...When a vast image out ofSpiritus MundiTroubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert—“The Second Coming” by W.B. Yeats|~~~|Names are hard.  Healing and trusting?  Even harder.Or; Kanan Jarrus has Acquired A Child and has no idea what to do with him (and neither does Chopper).{Prequel to Hear the Falconer and Lack All Conviction, but can be read on its own.}





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This starts a day and a half after Kanan and Chopper rescue Ezra.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you wake up, your whole world is flipped  
> Is just different, and you gotta, you know, you gotta  
> You gotta go with it and  
> That's just simply growing up  
> —“Understand” by Shawn Mendes
> 
> |~~~|
> 
> In which Kanan has bitten off more than he can chew and Ezra needs hugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Kanan tries to avoid being too obvious with how he watches the boy, but with how quick the kid’s gaze is to snap to him before darting away, it’s nearly impossible.

The kid had just shoveled food into his mouth at first, scarfing it down the same way Kanan had seen the prisoners he and Cham’s other soldiers had broken out eat after returning home.  But upon noticing Kanan’s gaze on him, however, he slowed down considerably, though it’s putting an obvious strain on the kid to do so.

“What’s your name, kid?”

It’s the fifth (maybe sixth) time he’s asked this question in the past 36 hours.  And it’s the fifth (maybe sixth) time the kid gives him the same response.

He shrugs, eyes on his food.  “You can call me what you want, sir.”

“I wanna call you your _name._ ”

The boy shrugs.  “Okay. Then do that.  Sir,” he adds hastily, glancing up with an expression of barely-shielded terror.  Kanan suppresses a grimace.

“I can’t if I don’t _know_ your name.”

“Oh.”  A pause as the kid tears another piece of the bread off of the hunk still remaining on his plate.  “You can give me one, sir. If you want.”

Kanan sighs, massaging his temples.  The kid is impossible. Understandably so, but still.  Impossible. “Kriff it, kid, I’m not gonna just _give you a name,_ I want to use the one that’s _yo—_ “

He stops when he senses a sudden wave of fear from the kid, removing his hand from his forehead as he watches the boy suddenly cower back in his chair, flinching as his gaze darts rapidly between Kanan and the ground.   _Kriff._

He makes himself calm down, reaching a hand toward the kid.  “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—“

The kid flinches back more, breath catching and lodging in his throat as he stares up at Kanan the same way he’d stared at—

_Kriff._

He makes himself lean back, withdraw his hand, calm the kriff _down._  Sighs.  “Look. I didn’t mean to upset you, okay?  I’m just...frustrated.”

There’s a moment before the kid speaks, and when he does, his voice is quiet, submissive.  “I’m sorry, sir. I– I’ll make up for it, sir, I promise, just– just tell me what to do.”

“Look, kid, you don’t have to do _anything,_ okay?  I’m not frustrated with you, I’m frustrated with the people I...rescued you from.  It’s not frustration with you. Promise.”

The kid nods, but Kanan can tell there’s no feeling in it.  For now, that’ll have to do.

There’s the sound of wheels coming down the hall and the kid freezes, spoon stilling halfway to his mouth.  He sets it down slowly, hand shaking so hard he nearly drops it, and turns around.

Chopper enters the galley, warbling complaints about something or other, and the boy stands so fast his chair nearly falls over.

“Kid?”

He jumps at Kanan’s voice, but doesn’t turn around, eyes still locked on Chopper.  The ornery droid continues to beep, oblivious. “I– I promise I didn’t do anything that I know of, sir, please I promise please please just don’t– don’t let the droid—“

“Don’t let the droid what?”  Kanan stands, approaching. “Hey, Chop, could you leave us alone a minute?”

The droid grumbles but obliges, shrieking a comment about hypocritical organics as he heads off to check on something else.  Kanan takes the boy by the shoulders, crouching and turning the kid to face him.

“I– I didn’t know sir I _swear_ I didn’t know please don’t le—“

“Slow down, kid, slow down.  I’m not gonna hurt you. And Chopper isn’t either.”

“I– I can make up for something, sir, just tell me what I need to do—“

“ _Kid._  Listen to me very carefully: I am not going to hurt you.   _Chopper_ is not going to hurt you.   _No one_ is going to hurt you.  Not anymore.”

* * *

Kanan’s sleeping late one morning when the vent grate in the ceiling opens and the kid tumbles out.

He shoots up straight in bed at the crash, swearing as he catches sight of the boy trying to untangle himself from what looks like... _cleaning supplies?_

He swears under his breath and gets up, going to help the kid.  As soon as he registers sight of the adult, however, he scrambles to his feet and sweeps everything into a pile, picking it up and starting to back toward the door.

“I– I’m sorry, sir, I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up promise—“

“No, kid, no you’re okay, you’re good, I was already awake.  I just wasn’t _expecting_ you, is all.”

The boy nods slowly, eyes still flicking around to everything but Kanan’s face.  “Okay. I’m sorry though, sir, I didn’t think I would fall.”

Kanan’s brow furrows at that.  “Uh, out of curiosity...what _were_ you doing?”

“Cleaning the vents, sir,” he responds matter-of-factly.  “You said yesterday that you were worried that they were getting too dirty, so.  I cleaned them. Sir.”

“Uh-huh,” he says slowly, nodding even slower.  It doesn’t make sense to him, why the kid would do extra work, but so far very few things about the kid have.  He’ll just figure this one out as he goes, he supposes. Just like so many other things.

“I can, um, leave and go finish, sir.”

Kanan’s eyes widen as he realizes the kid is taking his silence to mean he’s unsatisfied.  “No, no, no you’re good kid, you don’t have to, you’re good. Don’t...don’t bother.”

The kid nods.  “Okay. What do you want me to do instead, sir?”

“You can just...I dunno, chill?  You can sit in the galley and have breakfast, or the dejarik booth, your room...just do whatever, kid, honestly.”

The kid gives a short, quick nod, and then exits, taking the cleaning supplies with him.  Sighing, Kanan rubs his eye and goes to find a shirt.

He exits five minutes later, having finally found one, and starts looking for the kid.  He finds him in the galley, sitting in a chair with his knees pulled up as he stares at an oddly-silent Chopper.

“Kid?”

The boy jumps, looking up before his gaze darts back to the droid.

“Something wrong?”

“I...it’s just sitting there.”

Chopper warbles a response, causing the kid to nearly jump out of his own skin.  Kanan quickly approaches, shooting a glance at Chopper. The astromech retreats but doesn’t leave.  That’ll have to do for now.

“Chopper won’t hurt you.  He’s just an astromech. He helps out on the ship, and helps me with runs.  He was there with me when we found you, remember?” The kid nods, gaze still skeptical as he shoots another glance at Chopper over Kanan’s shoulder as he crouches.  “I promise, kid. He won’t. He’s nice, and he won’t shock you or trip you or anything because he’s a _nice droid,_ isn’t that _right,_ Chopper?”  He glances at the astromech over his shoulder, and the droid trills innocently.  Kanan sighs and rolls his eyes, looking back at the boy. “Ignore him.”

The boy cracks a slight smile, but when his gaze shifts to Chopper again, it slips.  Kanan sighs and rises, crossing to the opposite side of the galley.

“You want something to eat at the least, kid?”  The boy nods, a movement so small Kanan would’ve missed it had he not been staring fully at him.  “Alright. We got...stale biscuits. Ration bars. Uh...that’s about it.” Kanan gives an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I can get some stuff whenever we finish this run.”

“I’m okay, then, sir.”  He shoots a glance at the kid again.

“You don’t like those?”

“No, I just...I’m not hungry anymore.  Sir.” The boy’s stomach growls and Kanan sighs, grabbing two ration bars out of the cupboard and shutting it before walking back to him.  He hands one to the kid, putting a hand up when he tries to hand it back.

“No.  That’s yours.  We’ve got enough food, don’t worry.”

“I….”

“You can eat it.  I promise, we’ll be okay.  This run shouldn’t take more than a day, and I’ve lived off ration bars for a lot longer than that.”

The kid nods, carefully tearing a corner of the packaging and pushing the bar out slightly.  Kanan decides this is a good time to bring up his idea and walks to the chair across the table.

“I have an idea I want to talk to you about.”

The kid stops, midway through chewing a bite.  He swallows and sits up a bit straighter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You know, it’s been just Chopper and I for a while now, but...we could use someone else for jobs occasionally.  Just another eye out, another ear. You know, that sort of thing.” The kid nods, though Kanan gets the impression that he _doesn’t_ know.  Still, he continues.  “I can’t pay much, but I can promise a room here on the _Ghost,_ and food, and if you ever wanted to leave and go somewhere else we could figure that out too….”

“What’re you saying, sir?”

“I’m offering you a job.  If you want it.”

The kid swallows, nodding slowly.  “Can I think about it, sir?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.  Just let me know what you decide.”

He nods.  “Okay, sir.”

“Also, one other thing.  You gotta drop the ‘sir.’  You don’t need to call me that.  I’m not,” he swallows, trying to keep the venom out of his voice at the thought of the people he saw at the auction, “not like them.”

The boy nods.  “Okay, s—okay.”

Kanan smiles, and the kid offers a small one back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't want you to forget  
> Just pretend that it never happened  
> And it's just a little white lie  
> —“White Lie” by The Lumineers
> 
> |~~~|
> 
> In which Kanan hears a story and Ezra tells it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene is the day after the last scene last chapter, and the second scene takes place about a week after that.
> 
> TW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Referenced Death of Parents, Referenced Executions

“Kid, have you made your decision yet?”

He jumps, blinking as he looks up at his master.  “I...on– on what, s—?“ He manages to cut himself off before he can say “sir” again, not wanting to upset his master.  He had already made the rules regarding that very clear.

“The job offer.  Again, like I said, not a lot of pay, but you’d have a place to stay and if you ever needed or wanted to leave—“

“Yeah, si– I– I’ll take it.  Than– thank you.” Sixty-two knows it’s just a front, that the man still owns him and always will unless he gets sold again.

But thanking the man for what he clearly views as a gesture of kindness never hurt anyone.  And besides, maybe it’ll get Sixty-two better treatment if he comes across as thankful at the first opportunity.

His master nods, smiling.  “Good, great, I mean I’m glad—“

The tread of wheels on the floor enters his awareness and he jumps, startled.  He glances nervously over his shoulder to see the astromech. Chopper, isn't it?  He’s scared to ask in case his master views it as him ignoring the man. He suppresses a shudder.

The droid arrives at the table, beeping shrilly.  He swallows hoarsely, eyes tracking its movements as it stops next to his master.

“Chop, can it _wait?!_ ”

Sixty-two barely avoids flinching at the irritation obvious in his master’s tone.  He reminds himself that it’s not aimed at him, that if his master catches him thinking it is that he’ll reprimand him again.

The man sighs, rubbing his forehead when the droid babbles again.  “Look, Chop, I'll come check it in a minute, okay? For right now I’m talking to the kid.”

“It’s– sir, it’s fine,” he cuts in, realizing what he’s done a second too late.  He bites his tongue, hoping with everything he’s got left that his master didn’t notice the slip-up.  The interruption, however, is glaring.

The man seems to overlook it when he replies, however.

“You don’t need to call me that, kid.  Promise.” Sixty-two nods, seeing through the lie easily.  “Alright Chopper, I'll come with you, but only for a minute, okay?”  The droid chirps in assent, and Sixty-two refuses to let himself flinch again.  His master rises from the table, squeezing his shoulder lightly as he follows the droid up to the cockpit.

He hasn’t yet figured out what the man’s motivations are.  And he needs to, needs to _now,_ before he slips up again and his master realizes.  He needs to know what he needs to do, how he can be helpful, because clearly the air vent wasn’t the right choice.  He’ll figure it out within the day, at least. He has to.

He’s already seen what happens if he doesn’t.

* * *

“You still don’t have a name, and I can’t just call you ‘kid’ all the time, either.”

The boy shrugs.

“Did they call you anything?”

He shrugs again.  “Boy, Kid, Scum, Parasite, my number, Slave, Blaster Fodder, Loth-rat, Gutter Tra—“

“Okay, okay.  You can stop now.  Easy. That’s...they shouldn’t have done that.”  He tries to suppress his horror and fury at the slavers, knowing the kid can probably feel it.  “You said your number…?”

He nods.  “LLOR-895670162.”

Kanan stares.  “How do you... _remember_ all that?”

The boy turns slightly, tapping the back of his neck.  “Below here, on my back, they tattooed it. If you mess it up when someone asks...you just don’t mess it up.”  The kid adds nothing else.

He nods slowly.  “...ah.” He swallows.  “You weren’t...born into slavery, right?”

The kid shakes his head.  “No. They caught me, on– on Lothal.”  That’s as much detail as he offers, and Kanan can tell he doesn’t want to be pushed for more.  Not that he's planning to.

“Alright then, uh...do you remember your parents?”  Hopefully the question won’t freak the kid out. The boy shifts, uneasiness rolling off of him that would be visible to even non-Force-sensitives, and Kanan rushes to correct himself.  “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“No, I– I can, si– I’ll be all right.  I– I can.” The kid swallows before speaking, splaying his hands out on the table enough to look painful as his gaze drops.  “They were...killed. By the– the Empire. They...they spoke out, si– and they were punished accordingly. They arrested them.  And then they were shot. In...in the street.”

“Did someone else tell you that?  That nonsense about being ‘punished accordingly,’ kid?  Because that sounds too extre—“

The kid shakes his head quickly, and Kanan goes quiet.  “No. I– I saw it happen. And the ISB agent with them gave a speech.  He...told everyone that that was what happened to people who...fought back.”

“Do you know the name of that agent?”  He’s barely known the kid for a week, but already he’s ready to fight everyone who’s hurt him.

“It doesn’t matter.”  The kid laughs harshly, gaze still on the table.  “He’s dead. Got killed in the riots after.”

“Okay.”  Kanan nods slowly, then clears his throat.  “Uh...well before they were killed, do you remember what _they_ called you?”

He hesitates before shaking his head.  “No.” There's a moment’s pause before he adds, “My last name was Bridger.”  In an even quieter voice, he says, “I think.”

“Uh...kriff, kid, we need _something_ to call you.  And I’m not using your surname.”

The boy shrugs.  “You can come up with a name.  If you want.”

“Let me think.”

The name pops into his mind almost immediately.  “What about...Ezra?”

He nods slowly, a shy smile slipping out.  “I kinda like it.” Kanan cracks a grin, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Good, because we’re calling you that from now on.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Live the day, doing what you can  
> This is only where it began  
> Nobody knows how the story ends  
> —“Nobody Knows” by The Lumineers
> 
> |~~~|
> 
> In which Kanan runs some spice and Ezra eats breakfast food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

“Alright, so for this run, we have to go to Lothal to pick up the shipment, yeah?”  Ezra stiffens but nods anyway. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll– I’ll be okay.”  Kanan eyes him warily despite his assurance.

“If you don’t want to, you _can_ tell me.  You know that, right?”

“Yeah.  Of co– of course.”

“Alright then.  I’ll let you know when we’re about to drop out.”

“Do you need me to do anything?”

“No, you can do whatever.  Sleep, come sit with me, go explore, whatever.  Just don’t go in my room.”

The kid nods.  “Okay.”

They drop out of hyperspace a few hours later, and the kid enters the cockpit almost silently to watch as the planet rises before them.  The boy doesn’t comment as Kanan gets permission to land in the grasslands just outside Jhothal, nor when he lands. Ezra walks on the side of Kanan farthest from Chopper, trying to avoid even _looking_ at the droid as they disembark.

“I’m meeting the seller at Old Jho’s, so you can come with me if you want.  I have some credits if you want a space waffle.” Ezra nods eagerly before stopping abruptly, expression quickly becoming more subdued.  Kanan laughs all the same and acts as if the boy doesn’t look extremely grave anymore, mussing up his hair. “You ever had one before?”

“A few times.  When I was little, before...before it ended.”  So with his parents, then. Kanan nods, smiling.

“Alright, well you’re about to get another, yeah?”  Ezra nods again, smiling slightly. They reach the cantina and he pushes the door open for Ezra and Chopper to enter.

Ezra and the Ithorian barkeep seem to recognize each other, but neither comment on it.  He sits down with Ezra and Chopper. The boy sits closest to the wall with his back to it, gaze on the crowd as he takes his first bite of the waffle.  He grins, seemingly involuntarily, and takes another. Halfway through it he seems to realize something and stops, eyes widening. He swallows hard and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.  “Thank you.”

“It was nothing, kid.  You can keep eating.”

“What about you, though?  You don’t have anything.” Ezra starts to push his plate toward Kanan but he stops the kid with a hand over his, gently sliding the plate back.

“No.  It’s yours.  I got it for _you,_ Ezra.  I’m not hungry right now.”

“If you’re sure….”

“I am, kid.  Trust me.” Nodding hesitantly, the kid picks up his fork again.

Someone enters the cantina and Kanan twists in his seat, watching the man.  They lock gazes briefly before he moves to an empty table in a far corner. The seller.

He pushes his seat back and stands, gesturing to Chopper.  “That’s the seller; this should be a quick conversation. We’ll be back in a minute,” he says when Ezra’s expression becomes confused.  Chopper follows, silent for once, as Kanan crosses to the far table and sits.

“Kanan Jarrus?”

He nods to the Zeltron, leaning forward slightly.  “And you’re the guy selling me the shipment.”

The man nods in confirmation.  “Spice. It’s in hangar bay four at the Capital City spaceport.  I have the access codes for it, too.”

“Wait, hold on, _Capital City?!_  You told me that they were close by!”

“It’s not far for a ship like yours.”

“Close by as in the _same city._ ”

“Look, I’ll knock the price down a few creds, say...six hundred.”

Sighing, Kanan nods.  “Fine. Here.” He digs in his pocket, counting out the credits and handing them over.  “Access codes?”

The man passes him a datachip and they both rise.

“Thanks.”  The seller nods in reply and Kanan turns, intending to return to Ezra when he freezes.

An unfamiliar man is sitting next to the kid, close enough that he can tell even from across the room that Ezra’s uncomfortable.  As he watches, the human says something, and Ezra nods, mute and white as a sheet.

“...excuse me,” Kanan mutters to the man behind him, already striding toward Ezra with Chopper at his side.  He reaches the table and clears his throat, looking down at the man. He looks up.

“What are you doing next to Ezra?” he growls.

“Ah, just the man I was looking for.  This boy tells me that you’re his owner, and I was wondering how mu—“

“Ezra owns _himself,_ and he’s _not_ for sale.  Get out,” he spits, barely resisting the urge to punch the man in the face.

“I—“

“ _Out.  Now._ ”  Nodding, the man gets to his feet, stumbling out the door as Kanan glares after him.  Chopper warbles a warning as well, waving his manipulators threateningly as the man leaves.  Sighing and softening his gaze, Kanan sits by Ezra again, moving the chair the man had taken back slightly so the kid has more space.

“Are you okay?”

The boy nods, though he’s still trembling.

“Did he do anything?”

“N– no, he just...he just talked to me.”

“What did he say?”  Silence. “You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable,” Kanan adds hastily.

“I...I’d rather not,” Ezra says softly.  He nods in understanding.

“That’s okay.  Did you know him?”

“Vag– vaguely.  Dolsher knew him more.  He was...a friend from offworld, I th– think.”

“You don’t have to elaborate more if you don’t want to.”  Ezra nods again. “Are you ready to go?”

“Ye– yeah.”  He pushes his chair back and rises, still trembling as he follows Kanan and Chopper out.

Once they reach the _Ghost,_ Ezra quietly goes to his room after being assured that Kanan doesn’t need help with the shipment.  After picking it up and jumping to hyperspace, he sits in the cockpit, thinking over the day’s events.   _You should’ve been there.  You could’ve helped him._

Frowning, he realizes with a jolt that the kid doesn’t even have the proper documentation.  He’ll have to fix that. This job is a fast one, he can do it after.

He _will_ do it after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally one of the most poorly written chapters of anything I’ve written EVER but. it’s fine. it’s f i n e .


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read it on a map  
> Never how I planned it  
> Holdin' on for work  
> Taking it for granted  
> —“Holdin’ Out” by The Lumineers
> 
> |~~~|
> 
> In which Kanan squares up with a droid and Ezra makes a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for once? That’s new for this series.

“Can you read that one?”

“‘The– the st– st– stroopers pro– pro– protect the Em– Empire.’”

“No, look at that one again.  It’s not ‘stroopers,’ it’s a bit longer.”

“‘Sto– stor– stromtroopers.’”

“ _ Storm _ troopers, kid.  It’s  _ storm _ troopers.”

Sixty-two— _ no, Ezra, Ezra, his name is  _ Ezra!—sighs, rubbing his eye.  “Why’re you having me read propaganda anyway?”

His master raises an eyebrow, and as Sixty-two— _ Ezra!— _ realizes what he’s just said, his eyes widen slightly and his gaze immediately drops to the floor.  He swallows reflexively, trying to keep his breathing even.  _ Please please please please please please— _

His master laughs.  Ezra blinks. “Didn’t realize you were so cynical, kid.  And it’s just because it’s the only thing I could find.”

“S– sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“It’s fine, Ezra.  Honestly? I thought it was  _ funny. _ ”

“Oh.”

There’s an uneasy silence before his master clicks the datapad off and rises, stretching briefly.  Ezra’s gaze follows him, never quite meeting his eyes.

“Alright kid, you ready?”

“For what?”  He narrowly clips the word “sir” from his query, mentally cursing himself for the close call.

“We’re getting you some documentation.   _ Proper _ documentation.”

“I thought they gave you it, when you– when you bou– rescued me.”

“They did.”

“Then if you– if you don’t mind my asking, why…?”

His master rubs the back of his neck.  “They, ah, didn’t give me the right kind.  They gave me your ownership papers, not...not the kind that mean you’re free.”

“Oh.”  He stands, glancing up at his master again.  “I– I think you can get those from the Empire.”

“I know a guy,” his master says instead.  “Next job’s taking us up that way anyway.”

Ezra swallows but nods.  “Al– alright.”

* * *

“Chopper, if you could stop yelling for  _ one minute— _ “  The droid only shrieks again, louder, and Kanan lets out a frustrated sigh.  “ _ What?! _ ”

The droid warbles sharply, rolling forward to clunk into Kanan’s leg as he raises an eyebrow.  Chopper continues to beep, explaining, and Kanan’s brow only shoots higher.

“And you need  _ me _ to come and help?”

Chopper beeps shrilly.

“Alright then.  I  _ thought _ you could do it on your own, but I guess droids  _ can’t _ do everything after all….”

Chopper jabs his lower leg with a manipulator and chortles at the resulting curse.

Chopper leads him to the common room, squawking in the direction of the dejarik table.  Kanan inhales deeply.

“What’s the problem?”

The astromech explains, again, in more detail.  Sighing, Kanan gets to his knees and starts fiddling with the holoprojector built into the table.  He manages to pry off one of the panels protecting the wiring and peers in, blinking into the darkness.

“Chop, can you get a light on over here?”

There’s silence before light floods in with a painful brilliance, nearly blinding him.  “Chopper, what the  _ kriff?! _ ”

The light lessens after a minute and Chopper beeps in a mellow tone, rolling to the side to allow Kanan more light to see by.  Sighing, he goes back to work.

He’s not sure how long it’s been when he finally shuts the panel and sits back on his heels, running a hand through his hair and exhaling in a whoosh.  “Alright Chopper, should be good now. See if you can get a signal from Ryloth.”  _ It’s been too long since we’ve heard from Hera. _

“Who’s Hera?”

Kanan whirls, losing his balance and falling to a hand at the sudden inquiry.  The kid stands in the doorway to the rest of the ship, shifting his weight and swallowing when Kanan meets his gaze.  “Sorry, kid? Didn’t catch that.”

“I– I asked who Hera was.”  There’s a pause where Kanan contemplates simply  _ not _ telling him.  It’d be less painful, dredge up less memories.  “Sorry, I– if you don’t want me to know—“

Something else stops him short from his chosen response.  “It’s fine kid, but, ah, how did….where did you hear her name?”

Ezra blinks.  “Didn’t– didn’t you just say it?”

“No….”   _ But I thought it. _

“But y– but you just sa– said, ‘It’s been too long since we’ve heard from Hera….’Didn’t you?”

_ Oh  _ kriff, Kanan thinks, this time careful to keep his shields up.   _ The kid  _ definitely  _ has the Force.  Oh kriff oh kriff oh kriff— _

“Ex– excuse me?”

He blinks, glancing at Ezra again.  “Yeah?”

“I can go...I can go and finish up– I can finish up in the cockpit if that’s better.  I w– I was almost done anyway.”

“No, kid, you can stay here if you want.  It’s fine, I just...I was just thinking.” He sighs, rising and running a hand through his hair before blinking abruptly.  “Wait, did you say the cockpit?”

“Yes.”

“What were you ‘finishing up’ in there?”

“I just noticed the steering yoke was a bit stiff, so I– I was just trying to fix it.  If...if that’s okay.”

“It...it is, kid, of course.  Of course, Ezra. But you don’t have to.”

The boy shrugs, gaze dropping.  “I just wanted to make sure she flies well for you.”

“...well thanks, Ezra.”

The boy flinches at his words despite the neutral tone and Kanan has a moment of panic.  “Did I...did I do something wrong? I can go back and– and undo it, fix it, put it back the way it was—“

“No, no!  Kid, you’re okay.  You’re okay. I was being sarcastic, that’s all, yeah?”  Ezra nods, hesitantly, still appearing slightly like a kicked puppy.   _ Kriff.   _ Now  _ look what you did, Jarrus. _

“Ezra, look.”  He sighs, trying to figure out how to continue.  “You’re not...you’re not in trouble, or– or anything, okay?  I’m just...surprised, is all. I wasn’t expecting you to go do random maintenance things around the ship, okay?”

Ezra nods.  “Okay.”

“But, ah...where’d you learn  _ how _ to do that?”

“I was with a mechanic,” is all the explanation the boy offers.  Kanan doesn’t press for more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if we could take  
> Everything we said back?  
> Take me to the day  
> The day before it went bad  
> —“Say Amen” by American Authors
> 
> |~~~|
> 
> In which Kanan tries to be helpful and Ezra gets scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Hypothetical Child Death

“Jarrus, my old friend!  How are you doing?”

Kanan shrugs, face impassive before breaking into a wide smile and stepping forward.  “How’re you? How’s the business?”

Kasmir shrugs in reply, smirking faintly.  “It’s going well. But, ah, as I’m sure you’re aware, there have been some….Interferences.”

Kanan nods.  It’s been a hard cycle.  The Imps have increased blockades recently, particularly in the Outer Rim, where most of his work happens to bring him.  He doesn’t doubt that it hasn’t been good for anyone else, either.

Kasmir opens his mouth to say something else when he catches sight of Ezra.  His brow ridge shoots up and he takes a half step toward the boy. Kanan can feel him shift backward, just enough for it to be barely noticeable.  Kasmir must catch onto it, too, because he crouches slightly, as if attempting to make the boy more comfortable.

“And who’s this?” he asks Kanan.

“His name’s Ezra.”

“Didn’t know you had a son.”  Kasmir offers a three-fingered hand to the boy, and Ezra shies back more as Kanan rushes to come up with an excuse.

“He’s not my kid, he’s a friend’s.  They, ah, asked me to take care of him if anything happened, and….”

“Ah.”  When Ezra still doesn’t do anything with the older smuggler’s hand beyond stare at it, Kasmir finally pulls back, rising again.  “Well, you ready for the intel?”

* * *

“Why did you lie to him?”

“Lie to who?”

“The Kasmir guy.  Why’d you tell him I was your friend’s son?”  Ezra walks beside his master, taking two steps for each of the man’s own.

He shrugs.  “I dunno. Just didn’t want him knowing much about you, I guess.”

“Oh.”  Ezra has more questions, a million more, but he’s already asked too many.  He doesn’t want to push his luck.

“So where are we going?” he tries instead.  With this master, it seems an easy enough question to ask with little chance of risk.

“Kasmir gave us some info on a shipment passing through the Tatoo system.  We’ll be going to intercept it.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t want to risk asking anything else, even it’s an easy question.  His master has been more than kind to him already today; putting up with his useless line of questioning will be unproductive.

His master reaches the cockpit and settles into the pilot’s seat.  Ezra takes up a spot along the back bulkhead, eyes trained on the ground.  He still makes sure to keep his master in the corner of his eye in case the man needs something.

The man is halfway through the startup protocols when he casts a glance back at Ezra, confusion evident in his eyes.  “Why aren’t you up here?”

_Trouble trouble you’re in trouble you’re in trouble—_

He shoves the thoughts down enough to where he can swallow, shoving himself off of the bulkhead and moving up to his master.  “Wher– where would you like– where do you want me to sit?”

“Wherever you want, kid.”

Swallowing, Ezra glances around, trying to predict what would make his master the happiest.  Dolsher had always been slightly unpredictable when it came to that front; sometimes the man had wanted him as far as possible while other times he wanted him quite the opposite.

It was a balancing act, this pleasing masters, and one Ezra had always been good at.  Until now, apparently.

Cautiously, he slides into the seat behind his master’s, hoping that it’s the right decision.  He tries to feel for the man’s emotions as well as he can, but it’s hard without seeing him. Still, however, his master doesn’t react.  He takes it as a good sign.

They’ve barely drifted offplanet when he first coughs.

His master doesn’t react to that, either.  That is, until the second one.

He turns his chair after throwing the lever that makes everything turn into blue lines, raising an eyebrow in...concern?

_He’s just worried he was lied to about your condition.  That’s all. Just make him look at your papers again, and everything will be fine._

“You okay, kid?”

Ezra coughs again, nodding weakly and smiling.  “I’m fine.”

“That doesn’t _sound_ fine.”

His master starts to rise, but Ezra moves faster, standing first.  “It’s just an old—“ another cough, “—thing. Happens from elevation change sometimes.”  Or that’s what he’d been _told,_ at least.

“An ‘old thing?’  _How_ old?”

“Uh, a while, I think.  A bit after I started in the mines, at– at least.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“I think a few years, I’m not– I’m not sure.  I know it says it in my papers.”

“Alright.”  The man rises abruptly, and Ezra’s left staring at the now-empty pilot’s seat.  It’s a while before his master returns with a datapad, frowning in concentration as he reclaims his seat.  Ezra drops his gaze again.

“This says you have ‘behavioral and health issues.’”  He glances up at the boy, raising a brow. “Is that—“

Ezra coughs again, and then freezes.  _You just interrupted him oh kriff oh kriff oh kriff—_

“You okay?”

Ezra nods again slowly.  “Ye– yeah.”

“Alright.  Well, this says you have a ‘sporadic form of silicosis.’  Do you get fevers a lot?”

“I dunno,” he says, shrugging.  “They never checked.”

His master watches him for a long moment before his eyes flick back down to the ‘pad.  “You never got checked out for it?”

“Not since I first fainted.”

“...ah.”

Ezra swallows, blinking at the ground.

“We need to get you checked out.”

His head jerks up.  “Wh– what?”

“I’ll find a medic, or at least a med droid, or—“

“I’m– I’m okay,” he promises, swallowing again.

“No, Ezra, you’re not.  You could _die_ from this.”

“I’ve been fine so far—“

“ _Ezra._ ”

 _Kriff kriff kriff kriff kriff kriff you just_ argued with your master—

“‘So far’ isn’t _forever,_ Ezra.”

He stays silent for another moment before dropping his gaze again, nodding.  “Alri– alright.

“I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who can’t write Kasmir at all ahaaaa


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carry on my wayward son  
> For there'll be peace when you are done  
> Lay your weary head to rest  
> Don't you cry no more  
> —“Wayward Son” by Kansas
> 
> |~~~|
> 
> In which Kanan smuggles from a smuggler and Ezra gets flashbacks once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Child Abuse, Blood Mention, Kidnapping, Attempted Murder of Child, Victim Self-Blaming, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect

“How often did he say he gets sick?”

“He said he’s not sure.  He apparently didn’t get checked for fevers often.”  The medic nods slowly, giving Kanan an odd look over her datapad.

“Alright.  Well, his test results came back.”

“And?”

“We can’t cure his silicosis.  But we _can_ keep it under control.”

Kanan nods.  “How?”

“Don’t expose him to dust, if possible.  Or spice, or anything else that has a similar, powdered texture.  And no hard labor for extended periods over extended days. He needs a lot more sleep than he’s been getting, too.  I’ll give you some meds, he can take them for the next couple weeks but after this course he should be good.”

“Okay.”  Kanan nods again, mentally taking notes.  “I’ll do that.”

* * *

“What’re we getting?”

“Dilarium oil,” his master responds, continuing to adjust the jump coordinates.  “It’s decently valuable in this area, so we need to be on our guard. The Hutts have a pretty strong hold on the area, and our employer’s looking to undermine that.”

“Who’s our employer?”

Kanan’s jaw tightens, so subtly that if Ezra hadn’t trained himself to look for cues that small years ago he would never have noticed.  “Crimson Dawn.”

“Oh.”

They make the jump in silence, Chopper chittering from nearby as he unplugs from the ship’s port.  The droid rolls out into the hall, cockpit door closing behind him.

“Kid?” his master asks after a while of silence.

“Yeah?”

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah, I– I am.”

“You sure?”

Ezra nods, slightly irritated and worried now.  Why isn’t his master believing him?

“I’m _fine,_ I promise.”

“Alright.”

They make the rest of the trip in silence, Ezra only getting more and more uneasy.  His master hasn’t gotten mad recently. But _why?_   What could he have _possibly_ done so wrong that Kanan’s holding out on punishing him?

* * *

When the _Ghost_ drops into the Tatoo system, Kanan shuts almost all of the power off immediately, calling for Chopper as well.  The grumpy droid trundles in soon after, squawking about being in the middle of something when the power went out.  Kanan shrugs.

“Yeah, well now you don’t have to deal with it,” he says brusquely.  He reaches down, pulling off the back panel and shutting the astromech off before Chopper has a chance to protest.

He returns to the cockpit, smiling softly at the sight of Ezra.  The boy’s leaning on the console, staring out at the stars with a gaze of wonder that’s reflected in the windscreen.  Kanan approaches, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. The kid jumps, though not as much as he used to.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”  Ezra nods.

“Yeah.”  He pauses, and Kanan's starting to think he’s not going to speak again when he does.  “I...back on Lo– Lothal, I didn’t...I haven’t seen the sky much. Not– not for a few years now.  They were too scared to let us out at night.” That’s all the detail he offers, and Kanan doesn’t press for more.

An alert on the console dings.

Ezra almost jumps out of his skin and Kanan moves away, turning it off and looking over the scanners.  “There you are,” he says softly.

He waits until the ship draws close enough before turning the power back on all at once.  He fires the thrusters, directing the _Ghost_ toward the smaller freighter.

“Ezra, get on the nose gun!”

There’s silence and he shoots a glance over his shoulder to see the boy standing, frozen, and looking extremely uneasy.

“What?  What is it?”

“I don’t know how to fire it,” he finally says, clearly uncomfortable as he shifts his weight.  Kanan wants to roll his eyes, but not at the kid; at _himself._

“Alright, uh...go find Chopper and turn him back on, okay?”

Ezra nods and bolts.

* * *

He slides to his knees in front of the astromech, already fiddling with it.  There doesn’t seem to be an obvious switch anywhere, so—

Wait.

The back panel is removed, set on the floor next to the droid.  Ezra moves to the back of Chopper, grinning slightly to himself when he sees the exposed wires.  He starts messing with them, trying to find the right ones. He’s never worked on a droid before, likely because the things were only meant to terrify the wits out of all of them back at the mines.  He shudders with the memory.

Finally he must connect the right wire because Chopper begins to hum.  He sits back on his heels, grabbing the panel and replacing it before standing.

Chopper’s dome whirls, faster and faster and faster, until it finally settles.  The droid swivels and leans back to look up at Ezra questioningly. He quickly holds his hands up in defense.

“I’m the one who turned you back on.”

Chopper stares at him a minute longer before chirping, settling back down and rolling toward the cockpit.  Ezra follows.

His master’s left the door open and he enters, slipping off to one side and leaning against the bulkhead as he watches Kanan pilot them toward the now-disabled ship.

They dock without issue, and Kanan leaves the cockpit and heads back to the airlock.  Ezra trails after him, swallowing when he sees his master’s hand on a blaster.

_Are we just going to kill the crew of the other ship?_

Kanan stops just before the airlock as Chopper rolls up, warbling.  “Ezra. I need you to stay on the _Ghost,_ okay?  Don’t go to the other ship under _any_ circumstances.  If something goes wrong, and they try to find you, _hide._   If I don’t come back after an hour, and you _know_ something’s wrong, take the escape pod and launch it.  There’s planets here, you’ll be okay.”

“Are you planning on not coming back?” he asks in a quiet voice.

Kanan's eyes widen.  “No, no, of course not.  It’s just in case. So you know what to do if something goes south.”

He nods, still not entirely trusting his master.  “Okay.”

Kanan nods once and turns, punching in the airlock controls and entering the corridor.  Ezra watches him in silence before turning to Chopper.

“Are you supposed to go with him?”

The droid beeps in the negative, dome rotating back and forth in a mockery of a shake of the head.  He nods, moving to the wall opposite the airlock and sliding down into a sitting position on the floor.

He’s almost dozing off when he hears the shots.

He remains silent, even when the shots stop.  Chopper doesn’t react, so why should he?

Eventually, however, he hears the footsteps.

He stiffens, rising and turning to Chopper.  “We have to hide.”

The droid chirps in a low tone of agreement.  The astromech follows him as he leads the way to a supply closet he’s accessed the air vents through before, slipping in as Chopper moves to the far back.

Ezra barely dares to breathe as he hears the beings moving through the ship, hears them discussing forcing open the cabin doors in low tones.  He shudders.

“Check the closssset and the cupboardssss,” he hears one, likely a Trandoshan, call in a muffled voice.  “There might be ssssomething in there.”

Loud footsteps come toward the door and his breath hitches.

_“...hide,” his mother whispers, eyes wide in...fear?_

_“Now….Be safe.”  He knows his name is spoken, but can’t remember it, only the conflicting emotions in his father’s gaze as he ushers him into the saferoom downstairs._

The vents.

He jumps, just barely clinging to the grate of one and starting to open it when the door opens.  A meaty hand reaches out, snatching him and tossing him to the floor outside.

Ezra tries to scramble to his feet, but someone grabs him by the back of his collar and holds him just off the ground.  He whimpers.

“We’re not too far out of Anchorhead once we break atmo,” someone says, moving into his field of view.  They’re a heavily built Duros who studies Ezra as if he were studying a ship. He shudders, still in the grip of whoever’s behind him.

“Looks like someone beat you to it.  He’s already got an ID back here, from Black Sun.”  Ezra yelps when he’s tossed to the floor, a clawed, scaled foot pressing down on his back.  Another hand pulls the back of his shirt enough to where his tattoo is visible and he flinches, already starting to hear the crackle of an electrowhip.

_I can’t go back I can’t go back I can’t go back—_

A shrill shriek emerges from the closet as Chopper barrels out, rolling straight into the back of his current assailant’s leg.  The man loses his balance, foot slipping off Ezra long enough he can get up.

But only that long.

A shot echoes in the small corridor.

He turns to see Chopper spasming violently, blue arcs of electricity spiking across the droid, before he clunks to the floor and goes still.

Ezra gapes.

The Trandoshan takes the chance to grab Ezra again, this time grabbing him by the wrists and pulling him along as they head back to the other ship.  He can’t even dig his heels into the floor at the pace they’re going, the man’s claws digging into the skin just above his wrists and still-sore marks from cuffs.  He bites back a cry of pain, only trying to keep up at this point.

They slow once on the other ship, and Ezra tries to break free again.  The butt of a slugthrower hitting the back of his head is enough to stun him into submission.

“Might just be eassssier to tosssss him out the airlock at thisssss point.”

The Duros shrugs.  “Sure, if you feel like he ain’t worth it.  I’ll grab the other.”

He leaves, and the Trandoshan adjusts his grip again, pinching Ezra’s wrists even more as he walks to the airlock not attached to the _Ghost._   He’s too terrified to even fight back, to even say anything, to—

A shot fires.

The man pauses for a moment, before calling, “Verros?”

There’s no answer.

He waits a few seconds before calling again.  Still no answer.

There’s a snap-hiss from around a corner, and something in Ezra’s heart suddenly _screams,_ crying out for a song he’s always heard but never listened to.  He _knows_ that sound.  Knows it so, _so_ well, and he’s never even heard it before.

Kanan, head and jaw bleeding, limps around the corner, holding a glowing cyan blade just barely off of the ground.

“Let.  My. Son.  _Go,_ ” he snarls.

“I—“

Kanan pulls a blaster faster than the man can speak, aims, and fires.

As the man’s grip relaxes and he falls, Ezra shudders, looking at the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Ezra.  You have _nothing_ to be sorry about.”

“But they found me, and they shot– they shot Chopper, and you– you– you’re hurt, and I came over on the other ship—“

“Ezra.  I _promise,_ I’m not mad at you.  I’m not hurt, either; it’s just a scratch.  And don’t worry, we can fix Chopper. But I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“But I—“

He turns the blue blade off, hooking the hilt to his belt as he pulls Ezra into his chest with an arm, and though it feels odd at first, he relaxes into the hold soon enough.

“Th– thank you,” he murmurs.

He can feel Kanan’s _relief_ at his safety swelling, though he’s not sure how he _can_ feel it.  As if sensing his question, Kanan pulls back.

“Ezra, do you...would you want me to teach you how to use the Force?”

“The what?”

“The Force.  It’s, ah, it’s a way to protect yourself.  You know, how you feel people’s emotions more easily….”

He’s never told anyone about that.  Not since his parents.

 _“Let.  My. Son._ Go. _”_

He nods.

“I...yeah.  I– I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left!


	7. Epilogue

_Present_

* * *

 He stands at the viewport, staring out into the starred blackness in silence.  He revels in the uncertainty he can sense ebbing and flowing from the courier behind him, content to wait a few more minutes.  Finally, however, he clears his throat and turns, hands still clasped behind his back.

“What?”

“I– I– we received a transmission, s– sir.”

“From who?”

“Someone ans– answering the advert, sir.”

That was fast.  He only had them put it up a few rotations ago.

“What’s their name?”

“Kanan Jarr– Jarrus, sir.”

“Jarrus,” he says, trying the name out.  It sounds familiar. “Has he worked for us before?”

“I’ll check, sir.”  It’s only a couple of minutes before the courier looks up from his datapad again, clearing his throat.

“Well?”

“He has, sir.”

“Any crew?”

“One, sir.  Ezra Bridger, human.  It...says he’s registered as a minor.”

He raises an eyebrow.  Surprising, though not particularly unusual.  Smuggling crews pick up street kids occasionally; it’s cheap labor (often for free), and they’re smaller than most and can therefore fit into tighter spaces.  Still, however, something about the boy strikes him as significant.

“Tell him he’s got the job if he’ll come to an interview,” he says after a long moment.

“Yes, sir.”

“You are dismissed,” he announces.  The courier nods and exits.

Maul returns his gaze to the viewport.

_Kanan Jarrus and Ezra Bridger._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys SO MUCH for joining me for this extra-short longfic. I hope y’all have enjoyed and if you’re new to the series, don’t worry because it doesn’t end here! The story picks up chronologically (from chapter 6) in Hear the Falconer, and chronologically (from the epilogue) in the latest chapter of Lack All Conviction!


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